


Back to Square One

by animatedrose



Series: 2021 writings [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adult Trolls (Homestuck), Alternia, Attachment, Beforus, Beforus customs, Blood, Cocooning, Dancestors - Freeform, Dream Bubbles, Emotional Distancing, F/F, F/M, Fantrolls, Guardians - Freeform, Hemospectrum, Highblooded Trolls (Homestuck), Horrorterror, Hunting, Injury, Lost in space - Freeform, Lowblooded Trolls (Homestuck), M/M, Multi, Mutants, OC trolls - Freeform, Poisoning, Quadrant Confusion, SGRUB, Science, Scratched timelines, Seadwelling Trolls (Homestuck), Timeline Shenanigans, Trolls (Homestuck), Uncertainty, Wigglers (Homestuck), alternate timeline of Sgrub destroying Alternia, blood color instincts, bringing back the mutants, carpenter drones, cloning, dead Empress, ectobiology is weird, fighting between children, hemospectrum overhaul, how to make a shoddy space hive, hybridizing troll wigglers, living in a meteor, powerless Heiress, pupation process, raising troll children, rebuilding troll society, references to Survivor's Sgrub session, rekindling hope, reviving the limeblood caste, social separation, trapped in the dark, typing quirks displayed in speech, uncontrollable instincts, wigglers becoming troll kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animatedrose/pseuds/animatedrose
Summary: Alternia is destroyed by Sgrub. The Empress is slain by her heiress, The Survivor. Alone on a meteor drifting through space, the lonely fuchsiablood experiments with Ectobiology and concocts an incredible plan to undo what Sgrub caused.But timelines don't like being messed with. Actions have consequences. The Survivor realizes this just a bit too late...AU universe of Alternia, full of fantrolls and junk
Series: 2021 writings [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089221
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Act 1 Chapter 1: Reset

The Survivor, one of two survivors of the troll race, looked upon the destruction of her home and wept. Gl’bgolyb had no pity for the Mage of Life, having helped in the destruction of its ward’s race. Sgrub had done the rest of the damage, rapidly consuming her planet until nothing remained.

The fuchsiablood had watched the previous Empress fall, slain by her 2x3dent only days before the game was discovered. The newly-named Empress regretted allowing the game to spread. She hadn’t thought it was anything more than that, a game. Had she known what it would do, she’d have destroyed it.

Her race was gone. Her home was gone. Aside from Gl’bgolyb—gog, how she wished the beast had perished too—she was alone, stuck on a meteor drifting through space. She had burrowed to the heart of it and locked herself away.

To keep herself from going mad, she alchemized things. Her inventory was bursting with loose, random objects that she had picked up along the journey through Sgrub. Nothing held sentimental value to her besides her 2x3dent, so she put everything else into alchemizing.

The space was a mix of comfortable and cramped. Half of the block was styled much like her childhood respiteblock had been, minus all the water. The other half was full of machines and other gadgets that she had used throughout the game, including the ectobiology machines.

Ectobiology was weird to her. It was essentially cloning. If you made a perfect clone, it inevitably went back in time in order for you to be able to clone it in the first place. A mutant was just that, a clone that was tampered with to prevent it from going back in time. And then there was breeding, which seemed to act much like the Mother Grub…minus the Mother Grub herself. Again, rather confusing.

So the Survivor, in her boredom spells, messed with the machines. Scrolled through time to the distant past. It hurt her aquatic vascular pump to see what her home had once been like. How her kind had behaved. The green paradox ghost slime was interesting to mess with, though it never held together.

She didn’t want to make perfect clones. They’d just leave her in the end. A mutant brought to mind the candy red mutation, which filled her with an uneasy sense of disgust. She had tried and tried not to show hostility toward the lowbloods and midbloods near the end of the game…but it was so deeply ingrained in her to do so. She hated it.

Right now she’d take anything, even a mutant-blooded troll, over this silent loneliness.

The Survivor idly pressed buttons and pulled levers on the Ectobiology Apparatus, selecting two targets at random. Part of her instinctively recoiled in disgust when she saw their symbol colors. Rustbloods. She watched the paradox ghost slime form the duo before collapsing, the slime being pulled into two separate tubes. Combining the genomes, she headed to the Cloning Pad and waited.

It didn’t take long for something to appearify.

With a flash, a burgundy troll wiggler appeared on the Cloning Pad. It squeaked, wiggling around. Its nubby candy corn horns barely stuck out of its shaggy black hair.

The Survivor watched the newborn move and cry before approaching. Her aquatic vascular pump squeezed in disgust. _Rustblood_. The urge to crush it rose unbidden, demanding that she lift her heeled foot and stomp the creature into paste.

She gritted her fangs, fins flaring as she sunk to her knees. Gently picked up the confused wiggler. Held it close to her. Enjoyed its warmth, such a contrast to her own frigid body temperature. That was the only immediately good thing that she could name about rustbloods—they were warm.

A low burble, the soft hissing of voices, echoed in her ears. The wiggler squeaked in alarm, swiping with its larval legs. The Survivor hissed, spinning to face the huge hole in the ceiling that led outside…where Gl’bgolyb was, resting atop the meteor, like a massive living shield for the fuchsiablood’s new home.

The lusus—or horrorterror maybe, it certainly resembled one—hissed and burbled, curious about the fresh life that had emerged in the meteor. The Survivor snarled, clutching the wiggler close. The monster’s accursed Vast Glub had aided in the destruction of their race. Like hell was she letting a repeat happen!

“They’re MIIINE!!!” she bellowed, her triplicate quirk shining through.

The wiggler cried, burrowing against her chest. The Survivor breathed heavily, eyes glaring at the hole, as if she could see her monstrous custodian. Burn holes into her lusus with her gaze.

Gl’bgolyb fell silent for the first time in ages.

Once the Survivor decided that she had won, she settled and tended to the wiggler. She rocked it idly, as she had witnessed numerous jadebloods do in the brooding caverns. She sat back in her chair by the Ectobiology Apparatus, humming.

It had worked. Somehow, someway, she had created a new life. Without the Mother Grub. Without the brooding caverns. Without the droids and their filial pans. Without a single quadrant affecting any kind of incestuous slurry.

Just her, an ectobiology machine, some paradox ghost slime, and a cloning pad.

She watched the wiggler settle across her chest, slowly dozing off. The wiggler had no idea who she was or what she represented. That, if she wished, she could crush the newborn without a thought. Yet the wiggler slept as if nothing was wrong in the world.

…Maybe nothing _needed_ to be wrong.

She had just created a new life. She didn’t need the Matriorb! She could revive their race. She just had to keep the ectobiology machines running, craft a bunch of bred clones and mutants, and boom! Her race was saved. Nobody would have to know about Sgrub or the disaster it had caused.

Fear lanced through her. What about Gl’bgolyb? What if it killed her race again? As useful as having the lusus around was…was it worth the risk now? She had experienced near-extinction once. She did not want to see it happen again.

Yes, she’d have to deal with Gl’bgolyb. But another time. Not now. Right now, she had testing to do.

Bred things might go back in time. Mutations could not. Maybe she could blend the two…

Balancing the sleeping wiggler in one arm, the Survivor tapped away at the machine. Researching. Learning. And ultimately…experimenting.


	2. Act 1 Chapter 2: First Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survivor makes several discoveries...and many mistakes. Perhaps those can be of use too, though.

The Survivor hadn’t intended to make more than one or two clones as an experiment. But the more she learned, the more she desired to test. Mutation and breeding blended well, though she couldn’t find any physical defects with the wigglers produced. She made notes to keep an eye on them anyway, in case anything popped up later in their development.

She wound up cloning five more wigglers of various hemospectrum types, though it surprised her with what color wigglers appeared.

The first wiggler was the only pureblood burgundyblood. The other burgundyblood that she created was from a cross between an indigoblood and a burgundyblood. She had expected an indigoblood, though perhaps they were more likely to be rustblood due to past population levels? But that shouldn’t hold any weight in ectobiology, right?

That was disproven with the next two produced. One was a cross between a bronzeblood and a ceruleanblood, creating a bronzeblood. The Survivor then crossed that same bronzeblood with a tealblood…and produced a tealblood wiggler. She wasn’t sure whether to call them half-siblings or not, such human terminology striking her as odd to use.

Then she tried something interesting. She located a burgundyblood and then a mutant of the candy red variety. Combining their genomes gave her a mutant, much to her surprise. It was difficult to suppress the urge to kill the mutant candy red wiggler but she managed, setting it in a shallow sopor bath with the other four wigglers.

Her final experiment had been iffy. She had debated with herself whether to even risk doing it. It probably wouldn’t even work. But what if it did? What would she do then?

She set her first target parameters for random. An oliveblood. A safe pick, in the Survivor’s opinion. Then she set her second target and crossed her fingers as the paradox ghost slime appeared.

It was terrifying to see the figure of her predecessor standing before her, tall and regal. Deadly. Even without her 2x3dent, the former Empress was a sight to behold. The Survivor’s aquatic vascular pump boomed in her fins, even as the figure melted and was sucked away into a tube to have her genome analyzed.

Once that was done, the current Empress combined their genomes and waited. Breath held. Anticipation making her jittery. Fear looming over her head.

A wiggler appeared on the Cloning Pad. Tiny. Long black hair. Bright eyes.

Fuchsiablood.

Her Heiress. Her competition. The one that would one day challenge her for her throne, as had been the Alternian way for millennia.

The Survivor moved in, foot lifting over the tiny wiggler. Heel suddenly feeling like a far better weapon than her 2x3dent ever could. One good stomp and it would be dead. She would carry on unchallenged.

The wiggler cooed, looking up at her. Innocent. Dangerous. If only this tiny life realized what it could do to her.

It took all of her resolve to lower her heel. To pick up the fuchsiablood—her Heiress—and place it in the sopor pool. Gently. To step away and watch it squirm, chirping at the other five wigglers.

The lives she had created. Her trolls. Her…children? No, they weren’t her children. Her slurry had no contact with these wigglers. No slurry did. These children were made by her with Sgrub technology using the combined genomes of trolls that were long dead.

…Sgrub…

Would the game return to pull them in? Is that how it would work?

The Survivor prayed that they never found the answers to those questions.

She settled back into her chair, watching the wigglers chirp and squirm. Splashing and playing in their feeble wiggler way. Equals for what would be the first and only innocent period of their lives. That would change once they pupated into proper trolls.

…Unless she changed things. But how?

There were no brooding caverns here. No means to hold any kind of Trials or Ordeals. Short of establishing the caste system herself, there was…no way to replicate life on Alternia here.

The Survivor hummed softly, fins twitching. Maybe that…was okay. Maybe they didn’t need the caste system. It would take time for her to adjust to it…but she was certain she could do it. Without any lusii, she’d have to raise these wigglers herself.

As for Gl’bgolyb… Well, the Survivor would handle that in due time too.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor ran through letters and symbols scrawled messily over the paper on her desk. She had been generating names, mashing sounds and letters together until they formed what could work as names. She’d never had to name anything before.

The pure burgundyblood was Deixon. He proved to be an adventurous wiggler. He constantly tried to get out of the sopor bath, hissing if he was caught. And he was caught many times.

The other burgundyblood was named Vichoh. He was less adventurous but carried the stubborn nature of his caste. He crafted established spots where he would sleep or eat, throwing a screeching fit if he was moved from these spots before he was ready. If you invaded those spots, ancestors help you.

The bronzeblood and tealblood half-siblings—the label continued to stick to the Survivor so she relented and began using it—were named Niklas and Litvia. Niklas was huffy and loud, shrieking if his personal space was invaded. Litvia was softer but more prone to fighting, her teeth having sunk into the soft flesh of her bath-mates more times than the Survivor liked. The pair seemed happy to huddle together in a pile of plush fluff and shredded paper.

The candy red mutant was named Josevy. The Survivor had yet to determine their gender. The wiggler seemed to constantly swing between being male or female. It was rather confusing. Josevy usually avoided contact with the other wigglers, hissing and squeaking if any drew near.

The Survivor’s Heiress was named Sanqua. The little fuchsiablood, female as all their caste tended to be, was a social butterfly. She took no offense when others hissed and swiped at her. She rotated frequently between the wigglers every few hours. She seemed closest to Josevy, oddly enough.

The Survivor spent a lot of time watching the wigglers during their first few days of life. Though there was the occasional spat and tussle, the six seemed to get along as a whole. They’d cower as a unit if Gl’bgolyb murmured outside.

The Survivor spent a lot of time shrieking at her lusus. Cussing it out in the most colorful way she could. She had learned a lot of interesting swears from the various planets that she had been on in Sgrub.

It baffled her as to why her Heiress was afraid. Sanqua shouldn’t be scared of Gl’bgolyb.

.o.o.o.o.

The meteor traveled deep into open space, nearby space debris flung clear by the immense Gl’bgolyb. The lusus’ whispers had fallen silent more often now. Its primary job was to ensure the safety of its ward. Thus its current position as living shield.

Sometimes the Survivor emerged, psychic powers pulling in another meteor. She had begun doing that a lot more lately, hunting for the largest and most stable meteors that she could spot. Once they were close enough, she’d inspect it for materials. If it matched her criteria, she bound it to her current home with a thick, sticky substance that she had alchemized.

Currently, four meteors were bound to her original. Initially she had planned to mine the meteors for resources. Now she was simply adding to her living space, using various alchemized tools to dig herself tunnels through the rock to connect the meteors together. Now she had added several blocks, giving the illusion of an underground space-travelling hive.

She really wished for a lawnring, even if she’d never made much use of one on Alternia. It was hard when one lived underwater to maintain a lawnring. Anemones could only look so pretty before they became…boring…

The Survivor was slowly growing accustomed to a larger living space. Having a better location for the things that she alchemized helped. The lack of plug-ins for things like her hunger trunk did not matter. Same with water piping yet her load gaper and ablution trap worked just fine. She wondered idly if that was a side effect of Sgrub’s presence in her current universe.

At least the wigglers had their own block now. They were rapidly getting louder and more mischievous. No amount of toys could settle them and violence seemed ingrained in them, regardless of the lack of formal castes being set in place for them yet. Lately even Sanqua began scratching and biting when pestered.

Perhaps because they were sick of being cooped up? It’s not like she could take them outside. There was nothing but Gl’bgolyb out there! And if the lusus raised its voice even a little…

No, it was too risky. She’d have to deal with her lusus first. She was in no position to do that yet. She still needed the massive beast, much to her chagrin.

So, much to the wigglers’ dismay, the Survivor kept them inside the meteor. She had tunneled and relocated them to a meteor glued near the top of her original meteor. Perhaps the added height would create the illusion of outdoors. And maybe one day, she would add windows to the block they inhabited.

Maybe. She wasn’t sure how she would achieve that yet.

.o.o.o.o.

Gl’bgolyb certainly wasn’t happy with the added obstacles, but the beast begrudgingly endured. Its ward was staying busy and was not doing anything particularly foolish yet. The creature grumbled a smidge louder before silencing itself, readjusting its positioning again to get comfortable.

The horrorterror, for it was more that than lusus naturae, kept track of its ward through their psychic bond. Whether its ward was aware of this or not, Gl’bgolyb did not know or care. The beast could tap deeper if it chose, expose its ward’s thoughts like a book…but it did not dare. Not now.

The troll Empress had changed since the strange new life had emerged from the depths of the meteor.

Gl’bgolyb was still uncertain how the Survivor had done this. There was no way for trolls to breed now. The other survivor had not been seen in several solar sweeps since their escape on this meteor. Without slurry and a Mother Grub, creating wigglers was impossible.

Yet there was one. Then two. Then six. Six fresh lives, wigglers cowering within the depths of the space rock that Gl’bgolyb was curled around.

The Survivor screamed at the horrorterror more. Gl’bgolyb wasn’t offended, merely annoyed. Sweeps of near-silence and only now did the Empress raise her voice at the beast. The Survivor was brave…and perhaps stupid, but Gl’bgolyb kept that to itself.

The horrorterror would play along. It could sense how lowblooded almost all of these fresh lives were. All but one. One was…an Heiress. Had the Empress truly created what could be her own downfall? Interesting.

Yet the Heiress’ developing mind shied away from the horrorterror instantly. That was rather unusual. Heiresses usually welcomed it.

Then again, the current Empress was usually nowhere nearby when an Heiress was hatched.

With such unusual circumstances, it made sense that the Heiress’ behavior would alter. Eventually, genetics would take control. Gl’bgolyb wondered idly if the Empress would slay her Heiress before she pupated. It was strange that she even created an Heiress at all, living in such close quarters.

It was part of why Gl’bgolyb was not complaining much about the meteors being glued to its current resting place. It quite enjoyed Heiresses. They were a refreshing change from the bitter, depressed behavior and thought patterns of its current ward. If distance was maintained, perhaps the Heiress would survive long enough to pose a threat to the Survivor.

Gl’bgolyb couldn’t help but hope for the Empress’ imminent demise. A new ward would be nice.

So would some food. Meteors did not make for a good meal, though the few creatures that it snatched from the space around it made for a pleasant, if extremely rare, snack.

Perhaps the Empress could make some food in that meteor, if she had successfully created troll wigglers…

.o.o.o.o.

Wigglers were surprisingly easy to maintain. The Survivor had thought this would be difficult. For the most part, as long as she provided food and toys, the wigglers seemed capable of caring for themselves.

The sopor bath did help with the healing factor, though. The wigglers seemed to have a nasty tendency to bite and scratch each other. She had been forced to separate them on several occasions now.

The Survivor had made the block—broodblock perhaps was a good term—large and carefully crafted to keep the wigglers out of trouble. She had tried to emulate what she could recall the brooding caverns looking like, stalactites and stalagmites included. There were lots of toys, things to chew on, and soft fabrics of all colors to wrestle and play in. And of course the sopor pool itself, little ramps leading in and out of it to help the wigglers be more independent.

The broodblock’s design made her own movement quite hazardous, though. She had struck her head more times than she could count. It had been solar sweeps since she had last seen her own blood spilled.

For the most part, despite the initial agitation and a few scraps, the six wigglers seemed to coexist just fine. Perhaps it had helped that most of them were lowbloods. They seemed to be more communal than midbloods or highbloods, jadebloods excluded.

The Survivor shivered at that. Oh yes, jadebloods were rather communal in the caverns. And to take that community away…brought about devastating results…

A sharp squeak pulled her from darkened thoughts.

Litvia was on top of Josevy, biting at the mutant’s nubby horns. Niklas was nearby, a nasty bite on his soft bronze skin leaking blood. Josevy wailed, inching along the ground and shaking in an attempt to throw Litvia off. The tealblood refused to give up, hissing between bites.

“Enough!!!” the Survivor hissed, head ducked as she approached.

Litvia hissed back, big fangs bared. The Empress was unimpressed. She had seen much bigger fangs before. She plucked her off of Josevy, dropping the irate wiggler into the sopor bath. Niklas was dropped in with her to heal his bite wound. Litvia promptly settled, hisses becoming concerned coos as she snuggled close to her half-sibling.

The Survivor couldn’t help but wonder if somehow, the two knew they were related. Niklas and Litvia certainly were rather pale with each other compared to the others.

Sanqua had crawled over once the fight was broken up, chirping at Josevy. They squeaked, swiping a leg at their messy black hair. One of their horns bore teeth marks now from Niklas’ biting. Their red eyes watered in pain.

The Survivor watched her Heiress chirp and nuzzle Josevy. Probably the closest thing to a wriggler shooshpap that they could get. These two were rather close as well, though it seemed different compared to Niklas and Litvia. A more flushed relationship compared to pale, maybe.

She felt foolish suddenly. These wigglers were only a week old and she was already starting to put them together in quadrants! She shook her head, stepping away. Yes, very foolish. Best to do away with such thoughts.

Probably the only two not showing any kind of quadranted behavior was Deixon and Vichoh.

The two burgundyblood wigglers rotated between playmates, seeming to connect with everyone. They were the ones to get into the most trouble, though Vichoh did it only with a large amount of coaxing by Deixon. Climbing atop things to jump off, wrestling and rolling along the floor, and constantly getting underfoot. The Survivor feared stepping on them one day, so she had done away with her heels to better detect them if such a scenario ever occurred.

Without any Trials to go through, there was nothing to cull the weak once they pupated. The Survivor could not find the will to kill any of these wigglers now, not after observing and caring for them. Not even Josevy or her Heiress, both of whom she should want to kill with every shred of her aquatic vascular pump. There was just…this fuzzy feeling inside of her.

It wasn’t like a quadranted feeling. It felt like she was flushing red, yet the intense levels of pity weren’t there. It was different and made her mouth lift more than usual. A smile, she was pretty sure it was.

It wasn’t like a lover. It was more like…a mother. Was this what a Mother Grub felt like for its eggs? What a lusus felt for their ward?

Well, besides Gl’bgolyb. The Survivor was certain that the lusus had never felt like this toward her or anyone else. They were just a pathway to food for the monster. It wasn’t the same as with other lusii.

Gl’bgolyb chose that moment to start muttering a smidge louder. The wigglers all squeaked, legs clapping over their heads. Even Sanqua cowered, squeaking louder than her fellows in fright.

The Survivor spun, marching from the broodblock and closing the heavily sealed door behind her. She returned to her own block—ectoblock could work—and glared at the hole in the ceiling. She could barely see her custodian, beak tip hardly moving as it muttered.

Yes, she had considered attempting to clone lusii for her custodian. She had simply not done it yet. Did the beast deserve to be fed its favorite food after everything it had done to her?

Yet…if she didn’t feed Gl’bgolyb now that she had the means…

The lusus’ mutters increased another smidge. The Survivor dropped into her chair and tapped away violently at the keyboard. Fueled on by the growing shrieks of her own six wards.

Outside, Gl’bgolyb would’ve smiled had its face been able to. Its ward had been shown her place once more.

.o.o.o.o.

With nothing to cull the weak, the wigglers grew at their own pace. There was no need to rush their growth. The only threat present was each other…and the strange loud thing outside.

Vichoh spun his cocoon two weeks after appearifying. Deixon soon followed, picking the opposite side of the same stalagmite to cocoon himself to. Their absences were quickly noted by the remaining wigglers.

Litvia wailed and wailed, unable to understand where her two feisty playmates had gone. Niklas tried to soothe her, enduring her ear-piercing cries. Josevy and Sanqua kept their distance, trying to ignore their crying playmate.

The Survivor watched but made no move to comfort them. Cocooning was the first step to pupating. The others would soon follow the burgundybloods. She just had to watch and wait.

Three days later, Josevy cocooned themselves. The next morning, Litvia and Niklas cocooned near each other.

Sanqua took the longest to cocoon. She prodded the masses of webbing, squeaking and chirping in confusion. Gl’bgolyb muttered more often now that the Heiress was alone. Sanqua would shriek and scream if she heard the monster, diving in the sopor pool, as if thinking the liquid would muffle the sound.

The Survivor was grateful, nearly a week after the other five were cocooned, to walk into the silent broodblock and see six cocoons decorating the stalagmites.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor lost track of time. Ten days later and she almost entirely forgot about the wigglers. She had only briefly recalled the tunnel leading to the topmost meteor and entered the room merely out of boredom.

She hadn’t expected to find a small troll child in the room. Naked and alone. Afraid.

The child spun to face her, hissing. Short black hair seeming to puff up. There was no color in their eyes, so she paid attention to the horns. They were nubby things, sharp tips blocked by tiny round spheres preventing their growth. Like caps on a human rapier.

Deixon, the burgundyblood she had first created.

The Empress crouched slowly, aware that sudden movement may spur an attack. Deixon puffed and hissed, shaky on legs that he’d probably only been using for an hour or so. His eyes kept darting around in fright, as if looking for something.

Perhaps he was looking for Vichoh. Or any of his other playmates. He probably wasn’t registering his lack of friends and the presence of the cocoons as being one in the same.

“Shoosh,” she said softly. “You’re okay, DeIIIxon.”

The child hissed, fingers curling and uncurling. A feeble attempt to show his claws. His mouth was wide open, showing off his average-sized fangs.

The Survivor slowly moved closer. Deixon backed up until he was cornered. Then he howled, throwing himself at her. She caught him easily with her psychic powers and held him aloft, watching him kick and swipe in frustration. He continued to scream, a wordless sound like a scared animal. She let him dangle and thrash until he tired, hanging limp in her psychic grip.

Only then did she draw him close, cradling him in her arms. Deixon squeaked, eyes huge. She tried to remember how the jadebloods did it, gently rocking the child. Humming a soft sound, fins twitching with the motions.

The fuzzy feeling in her aquatic vascular pump was back, doubled in strength. Love. This was the human thing called ‘love’ that was the closest to a quadrant that such alien creatures could get.

The fuchsiablood Empress was unsure how long she was there for, slowly rocking Deixon. At some point, the child had fallen asleep. She was torn from her half-aware state by a sudden thump of a body on the ground. She feared that she may have dropped Deixon, yet the child was still in her arms.

In front of her, a cocoon had torn open from its stalagmite. A tiny form, horns forming the human letter ‘Y’, lay on the ground. It squirmed feebly, whining as it fought to rip the last of the webbing from itself.

Vichoh had finally pupated.

The Survivor sighed, resigning herself to what would come next. She doubted Vichoh would react any differently to her than Deixon first did.

.o.o.o.o.

They hatched from their cocoons roughly the same time apart as they had first cocooned themselves in. Three days after Vichoh and Deixon pupated, Josevy broke out of their cocoon. Litvia and Niklas followed hours later, hatching at roughly the same time.

The Survivor had trained herself to react properly to each hatching. Deixon had set the tone perfectly. Memories still muddled from pupation, each of the children had reacted nearly the same as Deixon had. The things she recalled from jadeblood brooding were an immense help.

Then again, attempting to soothe and cradle Litvia and Niklas together had been a challenge. Thank gog for godly psychic powers.

The five pupated trolls were even more mischievous now than they had been as wigglers. They got into everything and seemed to view anything in reach as a chew toy. The Survivor found herself quickly digging another tunnel into the lowermost meteor, hoping the sharp decline would keep the young trolls in their new block. Then at least Sanqua could hatch in peace.

The Survivor contemplated creating individual respiteblocks for the youngsters. It would be a lot of work and she would need more meteors. Gog, she wished she had the carpenter drones. The drones had been impossibly good at building a hive anywhere. She could use the extra helping hands right about now.

For now, the five would have to learn to function together. It would be a while before she was able to pull together enough material to start crafting anything like an actual functional hive.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor had lost track of time since Sgrub destroyed everything. It almost made her wish their Time Player had survived. He could’ve been so useful here. Gog, all of them could be.

…Okay, maybe not all of them.

The Knight of Rage had caused more destruction than help. The Survivor did not regret abandoning her when she’d found this meteor. She prayed that the murderous bitch was dead.

When she’d created the wigglers, she decided to simply start everything over. She put together her own calendar over the course of several dozen pages. The seasons were disposed of because there was no real level of light in space. Everything was dark. Same with the bilunar and equinox cycles. Without a sun or moon of any kind, such technicalities no longer held meaning.

She sketched out a rough timeline for a full solar sweep. Forty-eight perigees, each roughly four and a half weeks long with seven days in a week. Her aquatic vascular pump jumped for joy when she marked down when 12th Perigee’s Eve was on her new calendar.

The first of Culluary, the only month in the Alternian calendar that she ever bothered to remember, was set to start on the day she had created the six wigglers. She made that the beginning of the sweep and the first day of the first perigee of that sweep.

She no longer knew how old she was. Twenty or thirty sweeps, perhaps. Sgrub had messed up her sense of time with its strange mechanics. She marked down her wriggling day as she remembered it. She couldn’t recall the last time that she’d celebrated her wriggling day…

It had been six weeks now since she first created the wigglers. She’d had them for over a perigee. In another week, Sanqua should hatch.

She marked their cocooning and pupation dates on the calendar. More celebrations would keep them busy. Prevent boredom. Stop their lives from becoming dull.

If that was even really possible now.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor watched Sanqua fall from her cocoon, bouncing off the ground. She had since covered the floor of the broodblock with a soft material to catch those that pupated. Wigglers typically cocooned on stalactites, not stalagmites, but the fall was still a shock for those who knew nothing but warm webbing for ten days.

Sanqua wriggled, ripping away at the last of the webbing. Then she slowly rose, long black hair tumbling down her back. Her fins twitched, adjusting to a world full of sensory stimuli.

She didn’t react like the five before her. She stared oddly at the Survivor, silent. There was no screaming, no fight-or-flight reaction. Just silent staring with those big gray eyes of hers.

The Survivor slowly stood. Sanqua’s gaze rose to stay on her face. The Survivor approached until she was standing before the child. Then she crouched until she was eye level with Sanqua. The child never even flinched, watching her.

Sanqua made the first move. She reached out, touching the Empress’ hair. Then her chest. Then both hands were on the Empress, touching. Sanqua made a small cooing sound.

The Survivor endured these touches. When Sanqua was finally satisfied, she picked the child up. The Heiress chirped but did not struggle. She peered over the Survivor’s shoulder as they left the empty broodblock behind.

The meteors were hollowed out, bearing many necessities for life. They also contained objects of comfort to the Empress. Sanqua watched curiously as they passed through several different blocks before reaching a sharp decline heading to the lowermost meteor. The Survivor stepped carefully here, not wanting to slip.

When she reached the sealed door at the bottom, Sanqua grew restless. The Survivor gripped the child tighter in warning. Then she opened the door.

The block was bigger than the broodblock above but just as lavishly decorated. Toys and piles of blankets lay scattered across the floor, devoid of stalagmites or stalactites. Against the far wall were four recuperacoons, rather small but they were enough for the young troll children in the room.

Why four and not five? Because Litvia and Niklas refused to sleep apart.

The five troll children froze, looking up as their guardian entered the block. Sanqua chirped happily, flailing her arms as she saw her playmates. Once she was on the ground, she ran for them and pounced on Josevy. The smaller troll grunted, barely staying on their feet under her weight.

The Survivor watched as the children huddled together, becoming reacquainted. Fuzzy memories clearing as their wigglerhood came to light. Hopefully the tantrums would end now that they were all together again.

Watching them caused other thoughts to come to mind. Six was nice, but seven individuals did not make a race. And without a Mother Grub, reproduction was not going to happen the way it should.

The broodblock was empty now. Maybe she should think of filling it again…

.o.o.o.o.

While the six could not speak aloud yet, they had their own form of communication. Body language and the infantile sounds they made were enough. They understood each other just fine.

The five were happy to welcome Sanqua back to their ranks. Josevy was the happiest, though. They had missed their friend, her cold body a nice contrast to their warm one.

Deixon was happy to show the fuchsiablood around. He showed off the various toys and copious amounts of blankets piled around the room. Then the gooey beds called recuperacoons. Vichoh waved from his recuperacoon, lounging in the green goo. Litvia and Niklas chirped that surely the Guardian would bring another for Sanqua.

The Guardian was the designation that they had for the big creature caring for them. It cared for them, fed them, and bathed them. When they were hurt, it cured the wounds. It was always watching and protecting them, even when they couldn’t see it.

Especially from the Loud Thing.

Sanqua whimpered, chattering. The Loud Thing spoke to her so much when the others had cocooned. It said such nice things yet she was so very afraid of it. Something inside of her screamed whenever it spoke to her.

The Guardian protected them from the Loud Thing too. As best it could, at least. Their ears still rang horribly whenever the Loud Thing spoke.

Once Deixon finished showing her around, Sanqua watched the Guardian put down another recuperacoon. She approached, sniffing at it curiously.

She didn’t get much further. A strange force overtook her, forcing her to straighten up and raise her arms over her head. Strange cloth things slipped onto her body, covering her gray skin. Soon she was dressed and free.

Apparently the Guardian wasn’t interested in seeing them naked.

It left shortly after that, speaking unintelligible sounds that the young trolls did not yet understand. Sanqua watched it leave, the door sealing behind it. She wandered over, pawing at the door briefly before abandoning it. She couldn’t make it budge.

Litvia squeaked, waving her over. Deixon and Niklas were doing something while the others were watching. Sanqua darted over, eager to watch.

Things were floating.

Niklas was grinning, big teeth bared as he caused toys to lift into the air. Litvia held out a hand, a stuffed toy moving to her hand from the floating mass. Josevy caused a blanket to spin and flutter, though sweat dotted their face from the concentration. Deixon too seemed to concentrate hard, making a toy’s limbs move as if dancing.

Vichoh chirped in dismay. Apparently the four of them had strange floaty powers. He couldn’t do that. It made him a bit upset.

Sanqua’s eyes scanned the room before settling on a toy. She concentrated, imagining it floating in the air. She watched it, feeling sweat form on her brow.

…Nothing happened.

She concentrated harder. The other five stopped what they were doing to watch. Vichoh sat up straighter, watching his remaining playmate. Waiting for the toy to float.

…Still nothing. The toy remained stationary. It didn’t even budge an inch.

Sanqua felt her knees give and she fell, dropping to the ground. Toys and blankets fell from the air as her playmates darted to her in concern. Even Vichoh scrambled from his recuperacoon to check on her. The five chattered and squeaked in panic.

Sanqua felt defeated. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make things float like the others could.

Litvia and Josevy chirped their denial. She just had to practice. She would get it one day. She and Vichoh just had to try harder.

Sanqua felt uncertain about that. Why did she feel like that wasn’t right?

Vichoh slunk back to his recuperacoon while the others babbled to the fuchsiablood. He too had his doubts about it. Why could they do it but not him or Sanqua? That wasn’t fair. He wanted to be able to make stuff float too!

.o.o.o.o.

Days later, the Survivor watched the troll children flaunt their powers. Or some of them. The children, not the powers.

Okay, maybe both.

Deixon’s psychic powers were standard for a burgundyblood, weak but there. Josevy showed a similar level of skill. Litvia was a bit better than them both, able to manipulate the objects she lifted with more ease.

Niklas was the real star, though. He could lift several items at once and manipulate them all without breaking concentration. It was amazing. This was ceruleanblood-level psychic power, not…bronzeblood-level.

It got the Survivor to thinking again.

Lowbloods had weak psychic powers. For the most part, mutants didn’t generally have them at all. Midbloods, aside from ceruleanbloods, usually didn’t have much in terms of psychic powers either.

So how could Josevy or Litvia have psychic abilities? Why was Niklas so strong psychically compared to the others?

Then there was Vichoh. He displayed absolutely no psychic powers…yet he lifted the toy box with ease. He was far stronger than burgundybloods were supposed to be. They were durable but not exactly powerful, not like highbloods tended to be.

The Survivor wondered if perhaps it was the genome combining that had done it. Rather than being at the mercy of slurry and the hemospectrum, had she somehow caused mutations in those she had created? Caused traits from one caste to emerge in another by mistake?

Josevy had burgundyblood in them. Litvia had bronzeblood in her. Niklas had ceruleanblood in him. These could potentially affect the strength of their psychic abilities and even produce psychic powers where none should exist.

As for Vichoh, he had indigoblood in him. Perhaps to compensate for losing the burgundyblood’s natural psychic abilities, he gained the extraordinary physical strength of an indigoblood.

That made things worrisome for Sanqua. She hadn’t been able to use any psychic abilities at all. Not for lack of trying, at least. She was crossed with an oliveblood. Was it possible that had cancelled out the fuchsiablood’s natural psychic abilities entirely, as Vichoh’s indigoblood had to him?

If that was true…then it made sense for Sanqua to fear Gl’bgolyb. She would be just as vulnerable to psychic influence as a rustblood. She couldn’t defend herself from such assaults.

The Heiress was suddenly not a threat. And not much of an Heiress. What good was an Heiress that couldn’t even put up a proper fight?

The Survivor shook her head. No, that was wrong. This was the best case scenario. An Heiress that she could keep firmly in line. Perfect. At worse, Sanqua may develop the feral attitude of most olivebloods. That was easier to handle than a younger version of the Empress.

But still, this blending of traits among castes may get messy. This was worth investigating. Perhaps even solving, if possible. And if not…well, good thing Alternia was far behind them.

.o.o.o.o.

It was halfway through the second perigee that Gl’bgolyb detected something off in the meteor.

The horrorterror had been sleeping, wedged between two meteors glued to the surface of its ward’s original. The Survivor had been gathering more meteors, applying them to the bumpy surface of her original meteor. It was rapidly running out of room, meteors stacking on top of each other like weird stony growths. Gl’bgolyb was quickly running out of smooth sleeping space.

The beast awoke to a familiar sensation. Fresh life. Quite a few. Just like before, when the Heiress had been born.

Just what was its ward up to with all this?


	3. Act 1 Chapter 3: Six Plus Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survivor might be getting in over her head with her curious experiments. Sanqua suffers for it.

The Survivor had looked into the mechanics of ectobiology. She had found a few interesting things. Indeed, when combining genomes between different blood castes, the possibility of them adopting the traits of either caste was present. She tweaked this slightly but otherwise left it alone.

It seemed the order of combination tended to place certain traits and blood castes as dominant. It seemed the second troll usually passed on their blood caste. As for the first, keeping in mind Josevy and their sudden psychic abilities, perhaps the first troll passed on abilities.

Considering she was effectively rebuilding her race, perhaps some new variety would be nice. This could heighten the mutation rate, of course. Maybe she would see something new besides the candy red mutation.

She was almost eager to see what would appearify this time.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor aimed for castes that she had yet to create. She paired most of them with burgundybloods, curious to see if psychic powers would be present in the wigglers upon pupation.

Five of them were paired with burgundybloods. These consisted of an indigoblood, a violetblood, a purpleblood, and an oliveblood. As highbloods, plus a midblood, seeing them develop any psychic powers would be interesting.

The last one crossed with a burgundyblood took a lot of time to locate. After all, the limeblood caste had been wiped out long before the Survivor’s time. Eventually, she managed to hunt far enough back in time to locate a limeblood. She was curious to see if it would thrive now.

The other three wigglers were crossbreeds that she randomly selected partners for. Combining the genomes of a violetblood and a goldblood gave her a goldblood wiggler. Crossing a purpleblood and ceruleanblood gave her a ceruleanblood wiggler. Then she got a jadeblood by combining a jadeblood and purpleblood’s genetic material together.

No sign of any blood mutations. Unless she now considered limebloods to be mutations. She debated it before letting the issue rest. Until she saw something completely foreign, such as, say, a blackblood or a whiteblood, she’d leave the mutation standpoint alone.

She relocated the eight curious and wary wigglers to the broodblock. Gl’bgolyb muttered, likely having sensed them. The Survivor snarled at the wall, hoping the beast got the message. The lusus’ mutters ceased…for now.

She idly wondered how her current six would take to the new wigglers. Would they get along? Would they fight? Would the introduction of highbloods upset the balance struck between the first six?

She watched the wigglers play and squirm. Then she left them to their own devices, awaiting her results.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor added cameras and microphones to the broodblock and the kids’ respiteblock over the next three days. This let her keep an eye and fin on them without having to constantly walk to the highest and lowest points of her meteoric hive.

Yes, she considered this place a hive now. It had certainly expanded enough to pass as one. Not that anyone else would see it but her and Gl’bgolyb.

At least until the kids and wigglers were older.

She was cloning lusii now to feed her massive custodian. That at least kept it happy and quiet. Between these experiments, she crafted furniture and various other commodities to decorate her hive with. She had also begun mapping out her home’s interior, planning ahead for new blocks and extensions that may require additional meteors.

Not to mention more ectobiology research. Between observations of her current two broods, she was already planning out what blood caste combinations to create next.

At this rate, her meteor was going to end up becoming a planet.

Her first six were getting bolder. Deixon, Litvia, and Niklas were testing their abilities on everything in the room, including their playmates. Vichoh retaliated by making a fort from the toy box and chairs, hissing if the others got too close or dared to swipe anything from his furniture pile. Josevy kept pawing at the door, trying to figure out how it worked. Their psychic powers needled at the knob and hinges, exploring them.

Sanqua was…quiet. Reserved. Withdrawn, even. It was worrisome. While the other five reveled in their powers, the fuchsiablood Heiress had…nothing.

The Survivor would watch her Heiress for hours, the child huddled in the corner of their room alone. Josevy would check on her but otherwise seemed to make no real effort to draw her out. The other four chirped and waved but Sanqua would not respond.

The Empress finally abandoned her perch, heading down into the depths of her hive. Reaching the door to the children’s block, she opened it and used her psychic powers to set Josevy far from the door. She bound the other five neatly in place, despite their pitiful cries.

Sanqua jolted when she looked up to see her. The Survivor picked up the shaking child, heading out the door. She released her Heiress’ playmates when the door shut. She ignored the pounding of tiny fists on the door. They could not chase her.

The Survivor headed back up to the ectoblock. The hole in the ceiling let in some starlight from beyond. She settled in her chair, Sanqua in her lap.

“SIIIt stIIIll and be quIIIet. Watch,” she instructed firmly.

She scrolled through the Ectobiology Apparatus, hunting for a target. She stopped on a few oliveblood trolls. They were hunting, bounding through the forests like wild animals. Feral and wild and free.

She tapped the screen, indicating one of the olivebloods. “You have thIIIs IIIn you.”

Sanqua watched with wide eyes as the olivebloods on the screen hunted a large white creature. An unpaired lusus naturae. The beast, some furry hooved four-legged thing with curved horns on its head, bellowed as it was brought down by the oliveblood hunters. They tore into it, exposing its bronze blood. Sanqua cooed as she watched the animal die, slaughtered by the midbloods.

“OlIIIveblood,” the Survivor said firmly, pointing from the screen to Sanqua. “You have that IIIn you.”

If Sanqua did not have psychic powers, then she must have the feral ability to hunt and kill prey like an oliveblood did.

Sanqua reached out a shaking hand, patting the screen. Watching the olivebloods take down the lusus naturae again and again.

This…was her…

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor watched the new wigglers begin to cocoon themselves via camera. It had been two weeks since she had made them. It was almost the start of the third perigee since her ectobiology project started.

Today was also the first day that she let her first six out of their room. Before then, Sanqua was the only one to have left the room since they all pupated. She was rather skilled in guiding her playmates around.

“Eck-toh-blag!” Sanqua chirped, sounding out the words that the Survivor had been teaching her.

The other five slowly tried to sound the word out. They mostly just wanted to explore. The Survivor watched from her chair, legs crossed and foot tapping in midair. Monitoring their progress…and what she predicted would only be ensuing chaos.

Niklas made the first move, scrambling up onto her loungeplank. Litvia followed him, jumping on the cushions excitedly once they were up. Deixon chirped in jealousy before trying to join them, only for Niklas to tug him off the cushions with his psychic powers and drop the burgundyblood in the doorway.

Vichoh stuck close to the walls, peeking into nooks and crannies. He was likely looking for a hiding spot. Josevy jumped out from behind a table leg, making the burgundyblood shriek in terror and bolt back to Sanqua. He clung to her sleeve, pointing at the mutant and babbling to her.

The Survivor had been steadily teaching Sanqua proper adult language. They were too old to still be using wigglertalk. Though Sanqua was catching on quickly, the others were more resistant. They would learn, that much the Survivor was sure of.

Deixon clambered up a thick cable, hands smashing keys on her husktop keyboard randomly. Thankfully the machine was shut down. The Survivor didn’t stop him until he tried to chew on a corner of the monitor. She plucked him from her husktop and dropped him in her lap, fetching a brush to run through his unruly hair.

Expectedly, the burgundyblood began to loudly babble in protest.

The Survivor shooshed him, papping his cheek gently as she pulled the brush through his hair. Still young, the kids barely knew how to care for themselves properly without a custodian to teach them. Perhaps leaving them to their own devices wasn’t the best idea.

Perhaps this required more hands-on activity than she had anticipated.

Once Deixon’s hair was brushed neatly, or as neatly as it was going to get, she stood up. The frolicking troll children all froze. With a flick of her finger, her telekinesis lifted all six from the floor and furniture. They floated behind her, kicking and thrashing and squeaking as she left the ectoblock behind in favor of her second favorite block.

Her ablution trap wasn’t as grand as it could be, but it had done its job so far. She turned the knobs and watched warm water spill from the faucet. She dumped in some of her favorite bubbling fragrance fluid, watching the water boil over with scented bubbles. She purred slightly, fins twitching in nostalgia at the seaside scent.

Sanqua gave a curious squeak. “Wah-tah?”

“Water,” the Survivor corrected, shutting off the faucet once the trap was sufficiently filled. “Bath.”

“Baaaaaaatttthhhh,” Sanqua chirped, sounding out the word.

The Empress lowered the children into the trap, their clothes coming off to fold into neat little piles to be washed. They all squeaked and chirped at the shiny bubbles and warm water, kicking and splashing. Playing and making quite the wet mess.

The Survivor settled on the floor fur, inserting the dirty clothes into her inventory and pulling out clean clothes. They were mostly black clothes with colorful signs emblazoned on them. Signs that she created from scratch to tell them apart from each other.

Alchemy was so very useful…

Sanqua peeked over the trap’s rim, chirping. “No bath?”

“Not for me. You sIIIx need to bathe,” the Survivor replied, folding up the clean clothes in neat stacks. “Hey. How would you kIIIds lIIIke sIIIblIIIngs? Other kIIIds lIIIke you?”

“Uuuuuhhhhhthuuuuur?” Sanqua droned, mimicking her elder. “More us?”

“Yes, more of you. More than just you sIIIx,” the Survivor confirmed. “Would you lIIIke that? To have more kIIIds to play wIIIth?”

“Moooooooor?”

“There are eIIIght other wIIIgglers IIIn the broodblock. When they pupate, you wIIIll meet them.”

Sanqua seemed to be the only one listening to her. Deixon and Niklas were splashing each other. Vichoh had gravitated to the faucet, where the most warmth was. Litvia was swiping and playing with the copious amount of bubbling fragrance fluid around them. Josevy popped up from diving under the bubbles, sputtering and flailing slightly.

The Survivor watched momentarily before fetching a scrubbing sponge and a cleansing bar. She reached for Vichoh first, the child squeaking loudly as he was moved to the trap’s rim. The other children quieted themselves, watching.

Vichoh’s struggles died as she washed his back, using smooth strokes and gentle pressure to remove the grime and meteoric dust from him. The burgundyblood soon settled, relaxing. He even started purring.

Washing his hair was a bit of a challenge. Usually touching one’s horns was not a good gesture…but there were no laws here. And no choice, really. She did her best to leave his Y-shaped horns alone, using the gentlest touch when washing them. Vichoh gave a surprised squeak but otherwise remained blissful.

She rinsed him with a bubble-less bowl of water. Like hell she was introducing them to buckets so soon. Or ever, perhaps. She didn’t necessarily need to, right? She doubted any of them would be trying to pail each other until they were much older, if that curiosity ever arose.

And if anything would ever come of that pailing. Not like they had a Mother Grub to mix the resulting slurry and lay eggs.

The Survivor idly wondered if, in such an event, she could somehow convert the slurry into a wiggler. Would alchemy or ectobiology do that? It was worth investigating, so she stuck it on her to-do list for research.

Once Vichoh was clean—and rather limp in her hands, half asleep from her ministrations—she wrapped him in a warm drying fur and set him on the floor fur by her. Vichoh was content to snuggle against her, sleepy and sated. All of his previous outbursts and anxiety having been erased for the time being.

The Survivor repeated the process with the others. Niklas and Litvia were difficult, wanting to be bathed together, but she could only handle one child at a time. Each child melted in her hands, just purring gray bodies once she finally dried them off.

Note to self—to settle rambunctious kids, give them a bath.

That might not be as achievable once there was more than six. Or once they got bigger. They’d have to learn how to wash themselves one day. But for right now, at three perigees old, she could handle bathing them herself.

Levitating the sleepy children, she hesitated at the exit of her ablution trap. She couldn’t just put them back in their respiteblock. They’d get filthy again in no time. The block needed cleaning just as much as they did.

She broke off and headed for the ectoblock, moving past it to a block hidden beneath it. Her personal respiteblock, moved now that she was expanded her hive. It was much bigger and sported the comfiest furniture and recuperacoon. Her recuperacoon was huge, bigger than it probably should’ve been. Not that she cared. She was grateful for its larger size.

She climbed into it, laying back in comfort. While most trolls preferred a vertical recuperacoon, she preferred horizontal ones. She liked lying down after a long day. It was relaxing.

It made another thought come to mind. She—and likely her fellow Sgrub survivor—still suffered from the blood-soaked, war-torn memories of their race’s past. Would these kids suffer the same way? Had they already been getting the dreams? Or could they sleep outside of a recuperacoon and not suffer any ill effects?

She had slept outside of a recuperacoon plenty during Sgrub. She hadn’t had the materials to make one for quite a while and she hadn’t thought to grab hers when the meteors came to strike Alternia. It wasn’t the most restful sleep but she had managed. Her loungeplank was much like a second recuperacoon to her, minus the sopor slime.

She lowered the half-asleep kids into her recuperacoon, which boasted a wide oval opening. It rather resembled a massive ablution trap than a cocoon full of glowing green slime. The kids did not complain but seemed to instinctively seek out her body, perhaps looking for more warmth. The Survivor felt her own eyes drift shut, exhaustion setting in.

She briefly recalled that she had forgotten to bathe too. Oh well. Next time.

.o.o.o.o.

Over the next ten days, the Survivor alternated between attending to her first six—it held a nice ring to it—in person and watching her second eight—not as nice a ring but it worked—over the cameras.

She was letting the kids out of their respiteblock more and more, making sure to seal off doors and corridors that she did not want them to have access to. They didn’t complain much, too interested in exploring their expanded surroundings. Sanqua acted much like a tour guide, babbling in her broken Alternian about the things they saw.

The Empress saw fit to make a separate loungeblock, letting her safely seal off the ectoblock. She didn’t need them fiddling with the ectobiology equipment there. The loungeblock was where the kids spent most of their time, jumping on cushions and running around. Being kids.

They were acting much like the human children that she had seen long ago. She wondered if she’d ever see another living being or race now. Or if she should just resign herself to drifting aimlessly through space, crafting an interstellar hive that may one day evolve into a moving planet. Building her race from ectobiological genome-mixing and breeding. Ruling over a race of trolls that was isolated from the universe that she had unintentionally almost destroyed.

That was…rather depressing, actually.

Worth a healthy dose of shooshpapping from their Heart Player. Had he not been dead, that is.

Gog, she wished that he wasn’t dead. She craved a good shooshpapping from him, however enraging he had been. He could shooshpap anyone into calm. Anyone. It had been both annoying and amazing at once. Without him, their whole team would’ve crumbled into a murder-fest.

If it was possible to have multiple trolls in one quadrant, outside of auspisticism, he’d have been all of their moirals.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a sharp beeping outside of the loungeblock. Her alarm in the ectoblock was going off. A reminder to check on the broodblock.

“Stay here,” she ordered firmly, rising from her loungeplank. “III’ll be back.”

She disappeared through the door to the ectoblock, locking it behind her. She heard the curious scratching and pawing at it before the kids wandered off to play again. Then she forged on, marching to the surveillance apparatus.

Her second eight were hatching…

.o.o.o.o.

“Gone,” Sanqua chirped, looking back at the door that their Guardian had passed through.

Deixon and Niklas were engaging in a float-off. Litvia cheered wildly for her half-sibling as he lifted the loungeplank a few inches before putting it down. The Guardian never liked when he picked up the furniture. Deixon reluctantly conceded defeat, slinking off to pester Vichoh under the desk.

Josevy stared at the door, sitting before it. Unmoving. It was almost worrying, just how still the mutant was being. Sanqua wanted to wander over, to ask if they were okay, but she hesitated.

A rift had fallen between them once their powers had manifested. Everyone could do something really cool…but Sanqua had nothing. She had tried to pounce and hunt their toys, but that was it. She could just pounce. She couldn’t make stuff float or pick up really heavy objects with her bare hands.

She felt so…inadequate. Weak. Nothing compared to her playmates.

And she knew that there were more coming. The Guardian had shown her the feeds of the broodblock, where eight other wigglers of strange colors lived. What strange powers would they have? Would they all be stronger than her too? She had seen an oliveblood one in the mix, so…maybe she would not be alone in her powerlessness.

It still hurt her aquatic vascular pump. She and Josevy had been so close as wigglers. Closer than she was to the others. She wasn’t sure why but she had thought they had something. What that something was, she didn’t know, but it felt nice.

Now she wasn’t sure. The feeling was gone, clouded by doubt and fear. She felt like she was falling behind the others.

Was that why the Guardian was teaching her things? To make her feel useful and needed? It hadn’t done that for the other kids. Was not having powers so…unusual?

That made Sanqua feel worse. She didn’t want special treatment! She wanted to be like the other kids! It wasn’t fair!

A loud sound made all of the kids freeze up. Sanqua snapped her head to Josevy, who finally stood up. The heavy door to the ectoblock slowly moved, creaking open. The lock had been undone by their patient telekinetic abilities.

“Open,” the mutant said, looking back at them blankly.

Then Josevy walked into the dark ectoblock. Deixon, Niklas, and Litvia followed with babbles of excitement. Vichoh chirped his protest, refusing to follow. The Guardian didn’t want them in there. That’s why the door had been locked.

Sanqua followed the other four, agreeing with Vichoh. She knew why the ectoblock had been moved and locked. Everything in there was delicate and…needless to say, they were rough with stuff. Plenty of damaged and broken toys attested to this. And none of these machines were really replaceable.

“No go! Leave!” she cried, darting ahead of them to bar the way to the Ectobiology Apparatus.

“Move! Wanna see!” Deixon barked, pushing at her. Drawn to the glowing screens on the machine. “Wanna play!”

“Not here! Bad!” Sanqua argued, pushing back. “Go back! No play here!”

Niklas frowned before lifting a hand. Sanqua shrieked as she was lifted against her will. She felt fuzzy, energy crackling around her as she was moved to the loungeblock’s doorway. Once she was back down, the other four darted to the machines to explore.

This was really bad! The Guardian was going to be so angry with her!

“No play here!” Sanqua shouted, charging at them with hands outstretched.

Josevy turned to look at her. “Why not? Fun stuff here. No fair to keep away.”

“Not fun stuff! Bad stuff! Im-pur-tent stuff here!” Sanqua shouted, grabbing Litvia and tugging her away from the cables on the floor. “We leave now! No play!”

Something was welling up in her. Boiling anger and something else. Why wouldn’t they listen? They weren’t supposed to be in here! She had to get them all out! Now!

“Lookie! Us but…not us?” Deixon chirped, claw tapping a screen. “Ooh! Gar-dee-an!”

The screen switched to the bigger screen displayed before them once Deixon tapped it. The Guardian entered what looked like the broodblock. There were cocoons in the room, though three had split open. Other troll kids darted around the room. There was no sound but the kids did not seem happy.

“Why chase them? Hurt?” Litvia asked, confused.

“Gar-dee-an bad? Hurt us?” Deixon suggested, sinking back into the chair with sudden dread.

“No! Gar-dee-an good! Help kids! Like us!” Sanqua denied, seizing Josevy’s arm to tug them away from the husktop that they were practically on top of. “We go! No be here!”

“How you know?” Niklas demanded, reaching out to grab her with his powers. He successfully yanked her off of Josevy, suspending her in the air. “Tell!”

“Gar-dee-an is Gar-dee-an! Pro-tek-tor! Love us!” Sanqua shouted, thrashing wildly in the air. “Put down! We go! Be-fur Gar-dee-an sees and gets ain-gree!”

The Guardian successfully caught the three trolls on the screen. Then it paused, looking up at the screen. Then it marched off, three kids in its arms. The screen crackled with sudden static before shutting off.

One by one, the screens shut off. The beautiful glow of power in the block dimmed and died. The ectoblock was drenched in darkness.

Vichoh screamed a warning before the ectoblock door suddenly slammed shut, trapping the other five in the pitch black block.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor struggled to hold onto the three squirming troll children. She hadn’t expected the ectoblock door’s lock to be broken so easily. She had underestimated her first six, Josevy especially.

Hopefully some isolation in the dark would teach them a lesson.

She marched into her loungeblock, noting Vichoh’s presence instantly. It looked like he was the only smart one in the bunch. She’d have to reward him later.

The skittish burgundyblood watched as she put the three kids down. They were different, new. Freshly pupated from their cocoons, swaying on legs barely strong enough to hold them up. The Survivor stepped back to watch them, to see who would make contact first.

The limeblood, the goldblood, and the oliveblood wavered, clinging to each other for support. They chattered frantically to one another, wide gray eyes darting between the adult behind them and the child in front of them. They were afraid.

Vichoh slowly edged out from under the desk, giving a small chirp. The new kids perked up, chirping back. The limeblood unsteadily approached, nearly tripping over his own two feet. Vichoh reached out to catch him, flinching when the younger troll hissed.

“Is…safe now,” the burgundyblood slowly said, trying to keep his syllables straight.

The limeblood squeaked and chirped more. The remaining two shuffled over, the oliveblood holding her goldblooded companion up. The four young trolls huddled together, touching each other and chirping. Communicating.

The Survivor slowly sat in her chair, trying not to alarm them. It would be another three or four hours before the rest would hatch from their pupating cocoons. At least for the moment, it seemed like the kids got along. She had been rather worried about having a miniature war happening in front of her.

The oliveblood and limeblood, crossed with burgundybloods, should have psychic powers. They, along with their highblood counterparts, should be able to confirm if that hypothesis was true or not. Though she worried a smidge for Sanqua, having oliveblood in her but not a hint of her fuchsiablood abilities. What would she think, seeing an oliveblood with telekinesis compared to the brave hunters that she’d been shown in the ectoblock?

The goldblood, though sustaining the dual set of horns that separated them from other troll castes…also bore gills and fins from his violetblood half. She wondered idly if he’d have psychic powers or simply be a sea-dwelling goldblood. That would be interesting…

She quietly named the trio as they interacted. The oliveblood would be Naruke, the goldblood Efrain, and the limeblood Caolan. A girl and two boys. Not a bad ratio.

No longer concerned about a fight breaking out among her newest against her oldest, she shifted to look at the ectoblock door. She had expected shrieks of fright and loud attempts at escape. Perhaps they had simply frozen, having never seen such thick darkness in their short lives.

She hoped that they hadn’t destroyed any of the machines in there. The grist costs alone were astronomical last she checked and she no longer had the means to acquire more grist to rebuild them if they were damaged.

.o.o.o.o.

The screaming only lasted a few seconds. Then they fell silent, listening as their screams bounced around the room before fading into silence. Swallowed by the inky blackness around them.

None of them could see, so they stayed frozen where they were. Blind. Lost.

Were they even still in the ectoblock? Did they still exist? Or had the darkness eaten them, leaving nothing behind for their Guardian to find?

Litvia wanted to wail some more. She wanted Niklas but she couldn’t find him. There was absolutely no light since the machines’ power was shut off.

She didn’t understand. Why did everything go dark? Where was everyone? Was the Guardian mad at them after all? Why hadn’t they listened to Sanqua and just gone back into the loungeblock with Vichoh?

Sure, Sanqua was a bit more mature now. She got out of their respiteblock more often. She could talk better than them. But her lack of floating powers or high physical strength had made Litvia and the others begin doubting her. And feeling jealous of her.

The Guardian spent so much time with Sanqua compared to them. It was maddening! Sanqua couldn’t do anything. Why was she treated so special?

It made Litvia mad. Niklas and Deixon too. They took to defying and teasing Sanqua. Josevy gradually began ignoring her. Vichoh had no interest in the whole situation, having always held his distance from the rest of his fellows since pupating.

That was the whole point of breaking into the ectoblock. They just wanted to know what Sanqua got to see. She and the Guardian were always in the ectoblock. It wasn’t fair! They wanted to be special too! So Josevy agreed to try busting the lock and letting them in.

They weren’t supposed to get locked in the ectoblock. It was just supposed to be them exploring a bit and then leaving. Why did Sanqua get so riled up about it?

Litvia curled into herself, sinking to the ground. She let out small hiccupping sobs. She wanted out. She wanted Niklas and light. She wanted to go back to their respiteblock.

She wanted the Guardian to make everything better.

“Lit…via?”

“Niklas!” Litvia squeaked, head snapping up. “Where? Scared!”

“Scared,” Deixon agreed from somewhere else.

“We to-gu-thur?” Litvia asked, looking around. She squinted, trying to see anything. “Find?”

There was shuffling all around. Small chirps sounded, the children trying to locate one another. There was a sharp crash and a yelp from Deixon that made them all jump. A small confirmation of his safety made them relax. They resumed trying to find each other.

Litvia jumped when a hand grabbed at her back. She spun, hugging them. It was Josevy, their scent flooding her nose. Deixon and Niklas soon found them both, joining in the hug. The four chirped happily, hugging and snuggling close.

It took a few minutes for them to realize that they were one troll short.

“San-kwa?” Litvia chirped. “Where?”

There was no response.

“San-kwa? Where? Come?” Litvia tried again.

“You oh-kee?” Deixon chimed.

There was still no response.

Worry began to flood the four. They shuffled together as a unit, trying to find the fuchsiablood’s scent. Anything to let them know where she was.

They found nothing.

“San-kwa?” Litvia whimpered, teal tears flooding her eyes. “San-kwa… San-kwa!”

All four began to wail, calling her name. They were unable to understand why their playmate wasn’t responding. Was she hurt? Had she left them? Their cries grew louder and louder.

And then light erupted behind them.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor stood in the open doorway, watching the four crying children. It had taken a while for them to start making a racket. She sighed, lifting the four up telekinetically and bringing them to her.

“IIIt’s fIIIne. You’re safe,” she shooshed gently.

“San-kwa!” Litvia wailed, arms waving at the dark ectoblock.

The Survivor blinked, fuchsia eyes taking a headcount. Four kids here, one in the loungeblock. No Sanqua. Where was Sanqua? Where was her Heiress?

With a sharp snap of her clawed fingers, the ectoblock’s power turned back on. Screens lit up, light strips glowed, and the darkness vanished. One of her chairs was knocked over and her husktop lay on the floor, thankfully undamaged.

There was fuchsia blood spatters under the chair. A thin drippy trail led under the desk. Fresh.

The Survivor spun, dropping the four onto the loungeplank. Vichoh looked up in alarm, chirping his confusion. All eyes moved to the elder as she tore into her ectoblock, bodily ripping the desk from the floor and tossing it aside. Gathering the tiny body beneath it to her chest.

Sanqua was bleeding from a nasty head injury. The chair had probably landed on her. Had one of the others knocked it over onto her? The Empress highly doubted that Sanqua did this to herself. The child was unresponsive, unconscious.

She stormed from the ectoblock, the door slamming shut. Her three new children cowered, clinging to Vichoh in terror. She ignored them all, barking a loud “Stay!!!” in warning. Then she marched from the loungeblock to her respiteblock.

She set the limp Heiress on her personal loungeplank, fetching the healing kit. Cool healing gel rolled between the Survivor’s webbed fingers as she squeezed it from its container, smearing it over Sanqua’s injury. She would be lucky if it didn’t scar.

Once the wound was treated, she placed Sanqua in her recuperacoon. It was much too big for the Heiress but the Survivor didn’t trust the others to leave her alone to heal. She locked her respiteblock and headed back upstairs to the loungeblock.

Nobody had moved since she stormed away. Niklas, Litvia, Deixon, and Josevy clung to each other on the loungeplank. Vichoh gently soothed Efrain, Naruke, and Caolan on the floor fur. They all fell silent when she arrived.

“Whose brIIIght IIIdea was IIIt to go IIInto my ectoblock?” she asked firmly, eyes narrowing at the four on the loungeplank.

Niklas and Josevy glanced at each other. Litvia shook, keening whimpers escaping her. Deixon swallowed, looking guilty as hell. None of them spoke or raised their hands to take the blame.

“Perhaps III should lock you back IIInto the ectoblock wIIIth the lIIIghts off?”

That got a reaction. All four began to scream and thrash, panicking. Vichoh shrieked as well, making the younger three begin to cry in utter confusion.

The Survivor sighed, moving to soothe the newest. They settled quickly, having not fully understood the panic anyway. Vichoh calmed with a few strokes to his hair and back. The other four were harder to console but she persevered, shooshpapping them and rocking them back into calmness.

“Why were you IIIn my ectoblock? Please answer,” she asked, trying to keep her temper down. No need to frighten them further.

None of them responded. Maybe they didn’t fully understand why they did it. Maybe they just wanted in there because it was locked now. All they knew now was that she was angry and something bad had happened to Sanqua in the dark ectoblock.

She sighed, shooshing a sobbing Litvia. “What you dIIId was wrong. Never go IIInto the ectoblock wIIIthout me. Understood?”

“Uh-ner-stooh,” the four whimpered, teary-eyed and sobbing.

She gathered them up to her, turning to seat them across her thighs. Then she indicated Vichoh. The new three watched them with caution, cowering behind the burgundyblood.

Attention redirected, the four dried their tears and slunk down to the floor fur. They approached nervously, chirping to Vichoh. They circled, chirping greetings and introductions. Soon the eight were mingling. Plenty of attention was paid to Efrain and his fins.

The Survivor gave a small smile. It was partly false. She was still angry at them for breaking into her ectoblock and making a mess. Had they not been so curious, Sanqua would not be hurt right now. What were they thinking?

Perhaps it was time to set some stricter ground rules.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor fetched the other five once they pupated, bringing them to the loungeblock. They were settled, thirteen troll children staring at each other. Complete silence enveloped them.

She settled in her chair, typing at her husktop. Glancing up frequently to check on her silent creations.

The new five were wary, relaxing only because the other three from their group was familiar with their older counterparts. Efrain, Naruke, and Caolan chirped, coaxing their playmates into interacting with the older five. Hesitantly, they did so.

Four males and one female. Adding in the other three, that made for two girls and six boys from that round of breeding.

The indigoblood, purpleblood, and violetblood were the ones crossed with burgundybloods. The indigoblood was named Titoan. The purpleblood was named Nicolo. The violetblood was named Reivax. The other boy was a ceruleanblood, crossed with a purpleblood, named Hidrok. The lone female was a jadeblood, crossed with a purpleblood, named Timovi.

The Survivor had been curious to see if she could replicate the strange half-sibling connection that Litvia and Niklas shared. She used the same purpleblood in Nicolo, Hidrok, and Timovi’s creation. She’d be keeping watch over them to see if a similar connection developed between them…or if their shared highblood ‘parent’ created an instinctual rift between them.

Little by little, the thirteen drew near to each other and began to chirp. Interact. Touch. For the most part, nothing was violent or malicious in nature.

The Survivor was glad. She wasn’t keen on there being conflict between her creations. When one was stuck on a meteor in space, conflict really wasn’t optimal. At least in her opinion.

“San-kwa?”

She looked up to see Litvia shuffle toward her. The tealblood wrung her hands, looking guilty and miserable. The mood still felt heavy around the older kids.

“She’ll be fIIIne,” the Survivor stated, waving her hand. “Play wIIIth your frIIIends.”

‘Friends’ was still a word that made the Empress nervous. Nobody in their session had really been friends, per say. They just happened to inhabit the same Trollian server run by their Heart player. When Sgrub brought the ex-Empress to Alternia and the Survivor had killed her, the group of them stuck together as their planet was destroyed and Sgrub took over their lives.

Maybe at the end, they had become ‘friends’.

Most of them, at least. Certainly not the Silencer.

Litvia whimpered but indeed withdrew, shuffling back to her friends. Niklas whimpered, hugging her close. The duo snuggled together against the loungeplank cushions.

The Survivor eventually left her chair to sit on the floor, letting the new kids touch and crawl on her. Efrain and Reivax were instantly drawn to her fins, pointing out their own and chirping happily. Timovi tugged at the Empress’ long hair, squeaking as she crawled. The older children soon joined, having never really gotten such passive treatment from their Guardian before.

The fuchsiablood winced as her hair was tugged. Perhaps she would let these ones grow a bit and mature before making more. Fourteen might be a bit…much to start with. She had gotten too eager.

But that brought age into the equation. With most of them bearing burgundyblood in them somewhere, would their lifespans be changed? Would she lose most of them in the next dozen or so sweeps? Would her Heiress barely top a hundred sweeps before passing?

That left a sour taste in her mouth and a horrid pressure in her aquatic vascular pump. She…didn’t want that…

She allowed the physical contact for a bit longer before lifting them all with her telekinetic powers. The respiteblock would be too small for thirteen trolls—fourteen once Sanqua was healed. They would need much more space.

With a heavy sigh, she carried them to her personal respiteblock. It would only be for the night, she told herself. She’d enlarge the respiteblock later, perhaps even make more respiteblocks. Sooner or later, they would grow sick of each other’s presence and want their own space. That would mean more building…and more meteor hunting.

Just what had she gotten herself into?


	4. Act 1 Chapter 4: Expansion of the Highest Level

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Survivor sets her dream future into motion thanks to a mysterious friend dwelling in her dreams. The timelines get their shit together and prepare to rock her world.

It took a lot of grist to create carpenter drones. The Survivor hated digging into those stores now that she could not acquire more…but she couldn’t expand as fast at her current pace. There was only so much that she, her 2x3dent, some alchemized digging tools, and her telekinetic power could achieve alone against what could only be thousands of tons of space rock.

So she spent millions, even billions, of grist on fifty carpenter drones to start expanding and building.

The kids had been frightened of them at first but the robots were nonthreatening, even ignorant to the existence of anything but the Empress. The drones constantly worked, either fetching nearby meteors to weld to the growing space hive or tunneling their way into the hive’s depths to make new blocks. They progressed so much faster than she had been doing alone so far. It helped that, unlike her, the drones did not need to rest or refuel.

It was over halfway through the third perigee now. Time was flying by. The Survivor found herself eager for the twelfth perigee to arrive.

She stepped back into her personal respiteblock, sighing. Despite her promise to herself two weeks ago…the kids were still here. Sleeping on her loungeplanks, for she’d alchemized three more to accommodate them all. Taking up her personal space. Thankfully, they hadn’t been destructive and had been oddly compliant in leaving Sanqua alone in the recuperacoon.

She had kept firm watch on the kids. She herself still had nightmares from her race’s past. The kids, for all that she could see, appeared to rest peacefully. No nightmares, no thrashing, no screaming themselves awake in the middle of the night.

Perhaps being bred off of Alternia, rather than hatching in the brooding caverns among potential predators, helped to avoid such a fate. The Survivor was oddly jealous of that.

Sanqua, for the most part, was completely healed. A small cut on her left temple remained, refusing to heal despite spending a week in the Survivor’s recuperacoon. Though Sanqua was happy to greet the new kids, she seemed oddly distant with her broodmates.

As a whole, the first six seemed to have separated from one another.

Vichoh almost exclusively hung around the new kids, watching them and caring for them. Sanqua helped, though she mostly taught them things. Litvia and Niklas were still close to each other, though they rarely stuck around the others now. Deixon focused on strengthening his powers, trying to catch the Survivor’s attention with daring little telekinetic stunts.

Josevy was…rarely present. They seem to have detached almost entirely from the rest. They fled when Sanqua was around and no longer spoke. It was as if the mutant had shut down socially. It was worrying to see.

The Survivor wished there was more that she could do. It was hard to juggle fourteen sets of emotions. There just wasn’t enough time to attend to them all.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor oversaw the carpenter drones as the last of fourteen respiteblocks were made. Once they were completed, she moved items from the original respiteblock—now called the pupationblock for differentiation—to the new ones.

The eight new trolls didn’t have much to call their own, so everything in their respiteblocks was freshly alchemized. A door was made between Litvia and Niklas’ respiteblocks to let them interact better, since they had shared a recuperacoon up until occupying the Survivor’s loungeplank. There were also doors between Timovi, Nicolo, and Hidrok’s rooms for a similar purpose.

Not that the three of them were very social with each other. Timovi catered to her brothers but mostly, they avoided each other. It seemed to be a trend with the highblood kids. They were more willing to strike out on their own than hang with the rest of the group.

The Survivor spent a lot of time ensuring that the respiteblocks looked perfect before fetching the kids to show them off.

The reaction was optimistic. The older kids shrieked and flocked to their rooms, eager to have a space to call their own. The younger kids were wary but went along with the excited energy of their older counterparts, poking around their respiteblocks with curiosity. Litvia and Niklas’ combined shrieks at discovering a door between their rooms nearly deafened the rest.

Josevy made the smallest of noises before slinking into their respiteblock, shutting the door. The other children didn’t really notice but the Survivor did. She was tempted to follow them, to find out what was wrong.

She left them alone. Perhaps Josevy just needed time to themselves. She’d give them that time, at least for a bit.

Soon the excitement wound down. The kids settled, moving into their respiteblocks to rest. The doors began to shut until they were all safely tucked away, happy.

The Survivor was glad that her gift had been well received. She moved further down the corridor, where more respiteblocks were in the process of being built. Dozens and dozens of them.

Ideas kept springing forth in her head. Creating pseudo-outdoor areas, even a small town. Create their own little world inside of these meteors. That would surely keep her race happy.

Sure, the question of how to light it all up kept popping up. So far she had used battery-powered lights dug and wired into the rock to light up blocks and tunnels. Perhaps if they passed a sun, she could alchemize something better and longer lasting. The possibilities were endless!

Then the nerve-wracking questions popped in.

What of Gl’bgolyb? It still presented a nasty threat with its Vast Glub. Even though it had been fed plenty and would continue to be, would that be enough to pacify the horrorterror into leaving her growing race alone? It had eradicated them once. Would it do it again?

What if the Silencer returned? Nothing yet had proven that the jadeblood was dead. And if the Survivor had lived this long, then what was to say that she couldn’t too? And after how their last encounter went, not to mention the Silencer’s unwillingness to undo all the damage she had done to them…the Survivor did not feel good about her odds against the Knight of Rage.

None of this cloning stuff or ectobiology work would have needed to happen had the jadeblood surrendered the Matriorb.

The Survivor stopped in a larger block full of loungeblanks and gaming grub systems. She settled on a loungeplank and closed her eyes. Trying not to think about it. Failing not to think about it.

_“Please! Just gIIIve me the MatrIIIorb! You don’t even want to use IIIt!”_

_“Yet it belongs to me. You have no right to take it. Our race is gone. You have no right to revive it. Not anymore, Empress.”_

_“So you’d rather Sgrub wIIIns? That our race goes extIIInct? We could’ve stopped everythIIIng! Why won’t you let me help?”_

_“Help? You think you’re helping? You’re trying to rob me of my birthright. The Matriorb belongs to jadebloods, not to you filthy fuchsiabloods. You already have everything. Why not just make your own Matriorb?”_

_“You know how much that costs! III can’t! None of us could! Even combIIInIIIng all of our grIIIst, we don’t have nearly enough for IIIt!”_

_“Then that’s one thing I will always have over you, Empress. I have the means to save our race. I just choose not to. It is our fate to die here. And you cannot escape. You never can.”_

The Survivor opened her eyes, fuchsia orbs suddenly dull and tired.

The Silencer had been wrong. She had escaped death. She had escaped Sgrub, Alternia, and their lands. She did not die there, as the rest of their team had.

Yet the Silencer had kept the Matriorb.

That was still confusing to the Survivor. Why keep it if she wasn’t going to use it? Why not just destroy it, create the ultimate kind of slap-in-the-face to their efforts? Was it jadeblood responsibility that kept the Silencer from doing such a thing? Or something else entirely?

She didn’t know. Didn’t care. It was too late to ask such questions. The Silencer was gone, hopefully long dead somewhere deep in the cosmos. The Survivor had lived and was slowly reviving their race, one genome at a time.

The only thing that could stop her now…was Gl’bgolyb…

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor did not recall falling asleep.

Waves crashed against the sandy shore, cool against her bare feet. It felt nice. Familiar. Just like back home.

Alternia. She was on Alternia.

Right?

“KIIInd of. We know IIIt as Beforus. Scratched tIIImelIIInes can make these thIIIngs dIIIffIIIcult to understand.”

The Survivor turned to see another troll standing nearby. She had long black hair and pointed fins. A fuchsiablood…but she was not the Empress. It was someone unfamiliar to her.

“III’m glad we can finally meet. You see…you and III are the same person. Just dIIIfferent versIIIons. KIIInd of lIIIke when you created the paradox clones for your team during Sgrub.”

The Survivor watched her. Hearing Sgrub’s name again should’ve caused anger in her…but it did not.

The other fuchsiablood turned to her fully, smiling. “III better IIIntroduce myself. III’m Frency Dehjas. III’m what you can call a dancestor, your descendant _and_ ancestor of sorts. And you are…?”

The Survivor frowned. “We all…abandoned our names.”

“III see. We were tempted to do somethIIIng sIIImIIIlar but…decIIIded agaIIInst IIIt when we Scratched our session. Or names are most of what we have left,” Frency said gently, stepping further out into the water. “Want to swIIIm?”

“III…haven’t swam since AlternIIIa was…”

This couldn’t be real. Alternia was gone. She hadn’t seen an ocean in ages now. This was all in her head. Frency, this Sgrub business, the water…even if it all felt so real.

“Then you should have no arguments about swIIImmIIIng now.” Frency dove in, vanishing in a froth of bubbles.

The Survivor watched the bubbles fade. Then she stepped forward, walking until the water hit her waist. Then she executed a perfect dive, cool water enveloping her. Fish darted away, revealing a gorgeous reef and a large shipwreck further down. Frency was going toward the wreck. The Survivor followed her.

Colorful cuttlefish greeted them inside of the wreck. Frency settled on a battered couch. The wreck was clearly lived in by sea-dwelling trolls, yet there was nobody there but the two of them. Frency gestured for the Survivor to join her. She did so.

“ThIIIs IIIs a dream, yet not a dream. III’ve chosen to contact you through the dream bubbles that III dwell IIIn. IIIt’s the only way that we dancestors could survIIIve our sessIIIon once IIIt was Scratched,” Frency explained, fetching a colorful plush squid from the barnacle-covered floor.

“You played Sgrub?”

“Yes, much to our regret. III fear almost all lIIIfe has, at one poIIInt. The game’s purpose IIIs to help us mature and grow…and eventually lord over the new worlds that we brIIIng IIInto exIIIstence. Or so III’ve heard from others who faIIIled to wIIIn and ended up here,” Frency said, frowning.

“DIIId we faIIIl?” the Survivor asked.

“Not yet. III’m afraIIId Sgrub IIIsn’t done wIIIth you,” Frency admitted sadly. “You’ve completed the fIIIrst half of your sessIIIon. SIIInce your team essentIIIally self-IIImploded due to your jadeblood companIIIon, Sgrub has chosen to gIIIve you a second chance.”

“What IIIf III don’t want IIIt?”

“You have no choIIIce. You must accept IIIt. Or your buddIIIng race wIIIll be eradIIIcated agaIIIn, thIIIs tIIIme wIIIth you IIIncluded IIIn the body count.”

The Survivor shivered. She remembered the countdown clock. The sprites they had prototyped so foolishly. The meteors. The imps and brutes and other beasts that emerged from their lands. The agents of Derse and Prospit, the lengths they went to destroy each other. The battlefield. The Black King.

She could not put the likes of Sanqua or Deixon, Efrain or Timovi, not any of her creations, through that kind of hell. No.

“And IIIf III stIIIll refuse?”

“Sgrub wIIIll extend IIIts reach to you agaIIIn. But you stIIIll have tIIIme, of course. III estIIImate IIIt wIIIll be many sweeps before IIIt returns for you and your race,” Frency predicted.

“Why? Why can’t IIIt leave us alone?” the Survivor demanded, sharp teeth bared.

Frency shook her head and smiled bitterly. “Because the game IIIsn’t over untIIIl you claIIIm your prIIIze.”

The Survivor felt her claws dig into the soggy couch fabric. She wanted to howl and scream. To destroy something. To…kill.

Hands seized her shoulders. Frency was practically in her face. “III’ll be here to support you. We all wIIIll be. And keep up what you’re doIIIng wIIIth the EctobIIIology Apparatus. IIIt may gIIIve your race a bIIIgger advantage than even Sgrub IIIs prepared to handle.”

“…IIIf Sgrub comes back…what about the SIIIlencer?” she croaked.

“Even she cannot escape Sgrub. You and her wIIIll meet agaIIIn, though what the outcome of such a meetIIIng wIIIll be, III am uncertaIIIn,” Frency said, releasing the Survivor’s shoulders. “Do not gIIIve up hope, Kalora. Just remember what you learned. Most of all—”

“—never turn your back on the bodIIIes,” the Survivor finished for her.

Frency smiled. “Good.”

The world went dark. It was as if somebody had cut out all the lights. The soggy couch beneath her was gone, the cool water around her had vanished…and Frency was no longer there. The Survivor was alone, drifting in empty black space.

She wondered briefly how Frency knew her name.

.o.o.o.o.

The next perigee and a half passed quickly. Almost too quickly.

The Survivor began plotting out the large-scale construction of her hive. No, her planet. That’s what it was turning into now, a planet. A planet with an empty exterior occupied solely by Gl’bgolyb and an interior brimming with troll life.

She had no regrets about abandoning Gl’bgolyb outside. The space rock certainly wouldn’t defend against a Vast Glub but the Survivor had no interest in revealing her custodian’s existence to her race. Never again.

She had a database brimming with time coordinates and subjects for breeding. Hundreds, even thousands, of plans for future trolls filled the digital pages, patiently waiting for her to bring them to life.

The Survivor had dreamed of Frency frequently since first encountering the other fuchsiablood. Frency told her a lot about Beforus, about how different it was from Alternia. The Survivor latched onto many of those ideas, no longer wanting a race of warriors and killers.

Yes, with Sgrub coming, combat was necessary. But not on the massacring levels that it had been on Alternia.

And to make this new hierarchy and government come together, she’d need support to help keep her race in line.

.o.o.o.o.

The Survivor sat in her loungeblock, freshly expanded to be much larger than it had initially been. Before her, on various loungeplanks, were her first six and her second eight. The fourteen kids watched her, unsure why they had been summoned here.

“III’ve brought you here to dIIIscuss a very IIImportant matter,” she started off with. “As III’m sure you’ve notIIIced, many of you bear dIIIfferent blood colors. ThIIIs IIIs part of a governIIIng system of our race called the hemospectrum.”

She tapped a large drawing pad on an easel. On it was a large vertical line depicting various blood colors, with fuchsia on top and candy red on bottom.

“Among you IIIs at least one representatIIIve of each caste of the hemospectrum. As representatIIIves and the oldest of your cast, III need you to help me lead and care for our race. ThIIIs planet of ours needs us to guIIIde and protect them.”

Litvia raised her hand. “From what?”

“Any kIIInd of threat. Leaving the planet rIIIght now IIIs too dangerous,” the Survivor explained. “That’s why III’ve been growIIIng and expandIIIng thIIIs place. III want to make thIIIs place as lIIIvable as possIIIble to keep our race from leavIIIng the planet untIIIl IIIt IIIs safe.”

“How long will that take?” Deixon asked.

“Several sweeps,” she replied. “III have a frIIIend watchIIIng over our planet for us. She has told me that many sweeps from now, somethIIIng dangerous wIIIll come our way. III want to protect us from that.”

“Does it have to do with the loud thing outside?” Vichoh asked.

He was looking up at the ceiling where the open hole outside had once been. Weeks ago, it had been properly plugged with a hunk of metal. Most of the first six remembered the starry sky outside, though such memories were hazy at best.

“…Yes,” the Survivor said, frowning. “III’m dealIIIng wIIIth IIIt. Hopefully that wIIIll be elIIImIIInated before long.”

“Ee-lih-mih-nay-ted?” Naruke chirped, sounding out the foreign word.

“…IIIt wIIIll go away soon,” the Empress explained. “For now, try not to lIIIsten to IIIt IIIf you hear IIIt. IIIt IIIs not a good creature.”

Sanqua curled in her seat, fingers brushing her fins. She still remembered when the Loud Thing would talk to her. It did less of that now, but the idea that it was something dangerous frightened her. What did it want with them?

“Will your friend come visit us one day?” Caolan asked curiously.

“III don’t thIIInk so. She IIIs…very busy,” the Survivor said gently.

She was doing her best to minimize mentioning Frency or the dream bubbles. Even now, she still didn’t quite understand her dancestor’s situation. It was easier to pretend that the other was inaccessible in their world rather than her existing as a presence in the Empress’ dreams.

“Don’t worry about the voIIIce outsIIIde. III’m takIIIng care of that. III wanted to explaIIIn the hemospectrum and how thIIIngs wIIIll run here once III make more wIIIgglers,” the Survivor stated firmly.

The children settled again, patiently waiting for her to explain.

“The way the hemospectrum works IIIs that the hIIIgher you are IIIn the caste system, the more work you do to help care for those castes lower than you. We all must support each other, especIIIally lIIIvIIIng IIIn such close proxIIImIIIty to each other. III, as a fuchsIIIablood, am at the top of the caste system.”

“Sanqua too!” Litvia chirped, pointing to the Heiress. “She’s like you!”

“Correct,” the Survivor said, smiling. “III am the Empress, ruler of our race. Sanqua IIIs my HeIIIress, who wIIIll take my place IIIf anythIIIng should ever happen to me.”

“Like what?” Sanqua asked shakily.

“LIIIke…IIIf III should be too IIInjured to lead,” the Survivor said. She avoided bringing up death. “Should III be unable, our race wIIIll look to you for guIIIdance and protectIIIon. As the leaders of our race, IIIt IIIs our responsIIIbIIIlIIIty to care for the rest of our race.”

“…But what if I can’t lead?” Sanqua asked softly.

“III know you can. III wIIIll teach you how. III wIIIll teach all of you how your castes functIIIon,” the Survivor promised, reaching out to pat her Heiress’ head.

“If you’re the top then…Josevy is the bottom?” Niklas pointed out, tapping the bright red at the bottom of the hemospectrum guide.

All eyes fell on the mutant. Josevy looked up before looking back at their lap. Their gray skin burned bright red, embarrassed.

“Correct,” the Survivor said, biting down a worried noise. “But that IIIs not a bad thing. Where those of us at the top must work harder, those at the bottom receIIIve the most care. We are trolls and those of hIIIgher castes are much stronger than those of lower castes. IIIt IIIs our responsIIIbIIIlIIIty to care for each other, especIIIally those weaker than ourselves.”

“So Josevy is weak?” Efrain asked, confused.

“IIIn terms of caste…yes,” the Survivor replied, trying to be delicate. “Josevy IIIs very strong themselves. But IIIn troll socIIIety, theIIIr caste IIIs the lowest.”

“Why?” Litvia asked.

“IIIn the hemospectrum, red IIIs the lowest caste whIIIle fuchsIIIa IIIs the hIIIghest caste. They are on opposIIIte sIIIdes of the spectrum. That IIIs sIIImply how IIIt IIIs,” the Survivor explained.

“Why?” Deixon asked.

“Because…on the planet that III came from, that was how thIIIngs were run,” the Survivor explained. She hoped that her lies were solid. “My planet was destroyed. III and one other escaped, though III haven’t seen her IIIn many sweeps. The way my world was run…IIIs all that III know. IIIt IIIs how we trolls exIIIst.”

Eyes instantly grew big. The kids leaned close, eager for a story. The Survivor sighed before gathering her details, lies and facts alike. Then she spun her tale of Alternia and its destruction.

So engrossed in her tale, the Empress did not notice two of the kids slip away.

.o.o.o.o.

Josevy shoved their hands into their pockets, trudging down the corridor. The sounds of their broodmates and Guardian talking began to fade as they walked.

The Guardian’s words stabbed them deep in the chest.

Weakest caste, huh? They were plenty strong! They could use telekinesis just like Niklas or Litvia. Maybe they couldn’t lift heavy objects like Vichoh or Timovi could. Maybe they weren’t as special as Efrain or Sanqua were. If anything, Hidrok, who couldn’t really do anything special at all, was the weakest one!

Not them. Josevy wasn’t weak. They were strong. Maybe not the strongest but…definitely not the weakest.

They already didn’t like this hemospectrum thing. What did their blood color matter? It had never been an issue before. Why now?

“Josevy?”

Josevy frowned, squaring their shoulders. Sanqua crept closer, having followed the other out of the loungeblock. She was worried about the troll that had once been her best friend.

“Josevy? What’s wrong?” the Heiress asked, stopping a few feet behind him. “Josevy?”

“Go way.”

“…No,” Sanqua said bravely. “Why did you leave?”

“…Did you know?” Josevy growled.

“Know what?”

“About this…this…hemospectrum thing! That I’m at the bottom! That I’m weak! Did you know?” Josevy demanded, whirling to face her. “She tells you everything! Did you know?”

“N-no. I didn’t know. I’ve never heard of it before today,” Sanqua said, hands up in a pacifying gesture.

Josevy wasn’t having it. They marched forward until they were nose to nose with her. “Why? Why now? That whole blood thing didn’t matter before! Why now?”

“Josevy,” Sanqua whimpered. “I—”

“I’m not weak! I don’t _want_ to be cared for! I’m strong too!” Josevy shouted, yanking at their hair. “It’s not…fair!”

“…Josevy,” Sanqua muttered, reaching out to touch their shoulder.

“I’m not…an invalid. I’m…just as strong as you.” Josevy looked up, red eyes narrowed. “No. No, I’m _better_ than you. You’re like Hidrok. You can’t do anything at all.”

“Josevy, that’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair! Why are you at the top? Everyone can do stuff but you and Hidrok! Why are you guys at the top while trolls much better than you are at the bottom? Why, Sanqua? Why?!” Josevy yelled, seizing her by the shoulders and shaking her. Violently.

“Josevy, stop! That hurts!” Sanqua yelped, grabbing at their wrists.

“I don’t care! It’s not fair! Tell her that! Just…” Josevy shook their head. “If you’re at the top, then change it! I don’t want to be at the bottom!”

“I can’t help what she says. She’s in charge, not me,” Sanqua protested, trying to squirm free of her broodmate. “I’m just the Heiress. I’m not the Empress.”

“But you _can_ be the Empress! You can _change_ it! You can—”

“I said STOP!!!” Sanqua screamed.

The fuchsiablood lunged, sharp claws tearing at Josevy. Slicing through cloth to hit skin. Josevy yelped, letting go of her but that didn’t help. Sanqua pounced, knocking them over and pinning the mutant beneath her. Her wide eyes look like an animal’s, all yellow with a narrowed pupil.

“San…qua!” Josevy croaked, trying to keep claws from their throat. “Stop…!”

Her claws barely brushed Josevy’s throat when reality struck her hard. She froze, senses coming back. Then she leaped back and away, abandoning her injured broodmate. Their bright red blood decorated her hands. It wasn’t anything major but the sight of Josevy’s blood was…shocking.

It woke something up inside of her. Something she didn’t like at all.

Disgust.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, tearing up. “I’m so sorry!”

Josevy sat up, wiping blood from their chest and arms. Their clothes were a bit torn but the black material should hide the evidence. They shakily got up, looking at Sanqua.

“I’m sorry,” she choked again, stumbling backward. Face in her hands.

“…No. I’m sorry,” Josevy muttered, looking away. “Let’s just…forget this happened. I…”

“What happened to us?” Sanqua whimpered. “We used to be…such good friends. Why? Why did that…have to change?”

Josevy frowned at the floor. “…I don’t know. I just…had a weird feeling toward you. I didn’t like it.”

“You mean…like a quadrant?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

Quadrants were still weird. The Guardian had done her best to explain such a concept to them. It was rather confusing. Redrom, blackrom, concupiscent, conciliatory. Flushed, pale, ashen, caliginous. Moirallegiance and matespritship, kismesissitude and auspisticism. There was so much to know that it made identifying such feelings rather…complicated. And weird.

If any kind of quadrant was involved here, the pair had no real idea what it fell under.

“Can we…go back to how it was before? Please?” Sanqua begged. “I want…my friend back, Josevy. Please.”

“…Fine,” Josevy muttered reluctantly.

That feeling was bubbling up in them again. It was a feeling of dread and apprehension. Some kind of warning system, as if they were in imminent danger. It only ever came forth when they were with Sanqua. It popped up less around the Guardian but it came out full force around Sanqua.

They wondered if it was something with the hemospectrum. Them being at the bottom while Sanqua was at the top. It was frustrating.

“Really?” Sanqua asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, really. Just…can we forget this happened? Please?” Josevy requested awkwardly.

Sanqua nodded quickly, eager to rekindle their friendship. “Yes, yes! Of course!”

Josevy tried not to freeze up when she hugged them. It made their hair stand on end. They relaxed when Sanqua pulled back. The smile they gave was wobbly but it was there. Not as genuine as they may have wanted it to be…but it would have to do.

After all, it was what the Nugatory used to do.

.o.o.o.o.

The kids were slowly growing into their new roles. Even Josevy, upset at first with being the lowest caste, had settled after a few days.

The Survivor had allowed the kids to watch her operate the Ectobiology Apparatus and the Cloning Pad. They saw her create wigglers, combining genomes to diversify their race. Vichoh and Timovi were quick to help relocate the new wigglers to the broodblock.

She was relieved to see Sanqua and Josevy getting along again.

Despite a few rocky moments with her caste representatives, they all gradually began to learn how to get along. Perhaps it was the burgundyblood in most of them, but they were learning to get along much faster than she expected. The Survivor was grateful for this. As her inner circle and the oldest of their castes, them getting along would present a perfect support system for their race.

Their meteor was several dozen times larger now and growing more solid. It really was becoming an actual planet. She’d even spotted a few asteroids beginning to orbit around them. Maybe in a few sweeps, they’d have an actual moon or two.

Or find a sun to revolve around. That would be nice too.

Things would be much easier in a few sweeps…

.o.o.o.o.

Gl’bgolyb fed from its lusii chute. The beast had initially complained when the pseudo-planet had been sealed off entirely from the outside. Eventually it fell silent, grumbling softly between meals.

The Heiress had shut herself off from the horrorterror. It could not reach her. How annoying. With the Empress firmly ignoring it, the loss of the Heiress now left the creature with no one to speak to.

It was not a fool, however. It was aware of the steady stream of poison being fed to it via the lusii it fed upon. It knew that the Empress was attempting to kill it. It would be many sweeps before the poison would even start taking effect, let alone causing irreversible damage.

Yet Gl’bgolyb did not unleash a Vast Glub in rage.

The beast stayed silent and continued to feed. Ingesting the poison of its own free will. After so long alone, even a death as slow as this was welcome. The horrorterror was curious how long the Empress and her mutated race would survive once the beast had passed.

It could sense many things in the distance approaching. It would be several sweeps before any of them arrived…but their arrival was inevitable and unavoidable. And from the sheer murderous aura coming off one of them, Gl’bgolyb had no interest in being around once it landed.

It had survived for a very long time after Alternia had been destroyed by Sgrub. One round of Sgrub was enough for the eldritch beast.

It was happy to be exiting stage left in a few sweeps.

.o.o.o.o.

In the far distance, three competing forces were hurtling toward the Survivor’s growing planet.

One was bright white, brimming with green electrical energy. It zoomed forth at unnaturally fast speeds. It displayed a mirroring effect, a phantom of itself tailing several yards behind it as it moved. It would arrive at the planet in four sweeps.

The second was the flying form of a gray lupine beast with wings. Powered by a magical artifact and driven by the written words of a royal figure, the creature flew swiftly through space. It would land on the planet in nine sweeps.

The third was a small meteor. Inside of it was a luminous figure with a thirst for blood. Rage and vengeance fueled it. It brought with it the very force that the planet had been created to escape from. It would collide with the planet in fifteen sweeps.

Frency Dehjas watched all of these events take place simultaneously within the dream bubbles flooding the Incipisphere. She watched and she smiled.

“Let the game begIIIn.”


End file.
